When you want me and forever more
by somethingcool
Summary: It's years after Stan's fateful tenth birthday party. He and Kyle are still apart, except for during those sordid drunken nights of passion. Cartman/Kyle, Stan/Kyle.


_(Warning: character death, angsty as hell.)_

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><p>Like every time, it started off with some heavy drinking at a party. I don't know why I get invited to them still, after all these years. I'm usually invited by some girl who thinks she can break through my bleak exterior and bring out my sweet, sensitive side again, but you'd think that after all this time and that not happening, not once, they'd take the hint.<p>

Well. Not with a girl, anyway.

I do countless shots of whatever's to hand, sickly sweet stuff mingling with bitter hard liquor. No one talks to me for any length of time, so there's nothing else to do. I don't know why I still come to these things. Or maybe I do and I'm just too chickenshit to admit it even to myself.

Kyle, who's here with his long-term and often cheated on boyfriend, Cartman, starts off by ignoring me fastidiously. Cartman glowers at me the whole time we're in the same room, but doesn't say anything. I don't know why he doesn't just pound ten kinds of crap out of me. I probably deserve it. But maybe Kyle deserves it more.

Once Kyle's drunk and staggering around, we always meet again. This time, it's outside someone's bedroom. I don't know whose. I just know that Kyle's face has lit up and he drags me inside, kissing me ferociously.

I hate everything in life except for the few innocent moments when this is happening.

We strip each other down with ease, despite neither of us being able to stand. It's probably all the practice. I run my hands down his soft, milky skin, tease his lower red curls with my fingers and get him so hard he has tears in his eyes as he begs me to fuck him. I acquiesce, as always, and make his whole body shake as I pound his ass.

Here's the kicker: sometimes, like tonight, we'll cuddle up and fall asleep in each other's arms. Like a picture perfect Hollywood couple. Meanwhile, Kyle's actual boyfriend is probably out hunting for him, even whilst knowing what Kyle's doing or has done. He's not as persistent as he once was. He gave up trying to stop it happening about a year ago.

I'm first to wake this time. I slip out of Kyle's grasp. He moans in his sleep and tries to wriggle closer, but I've already left the bed and started dressing again. I want to get out of here before he wakes up. Sure, it won't stop him yelling at me at some point in the future, but it's better than seeing his face fall when he realises what he's done, yet again.

I'm not lucky this morning. When he realises that his teddy bear for the night has gone, he stirs and looks around. I try to ignore him, but I catch signs of movement in the mirror beside me. I just need to get my shoes on. If I can do that before he's awake enough to process what's happened, it'll be okay.

"You fucking asshole," he says, his voice throaty and hoarse.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, pulling my last sock on.

"Like fuck you are," he snaps. "Why do you have to do this to me? Every fucking time?"

"Drop the high and mighty act. You dragged me in here and begged me to fuck you."

"And you had not choice but to shove your cock inside me?"

"If you hate it so much, why don't you stop trying to jump on my cock every time you have something to drink?"

I start tying my shoelaces. I hate arguing with Kyle, even now, but there's no resolution to this problem. We just keep going around in circles.

"You really want to know?" he asks, so quietly I can barely believe he's actually asking. He's never offered an explanation before.

"I guess. Might stop me feeling like your fuck toy every few weeks."

"Fuck you," he says, his voice catching on a sob.

"You already did."

A punch to my back bowls me forward off the bed. The friction from the carpet burns my hands. Back on the bed, Kyle is on all fours, leaning over me with his teeth gritted.

"Here's the fucking back story: since you decided I and the rest of the world didn't meet your exacting standards, I've never been able to get properly close to anyone. I can't trust anyone. You fucking broke me."

"So you reward me by offering your body up to me? Makes sense."

"When I get drunk, I forget what a raging asshole you are!" he screams. "I just see..." He wipes his eyes angrily, then continues. "I just see my best friend again. I feel so fucking happy."

"Since Cartman's your best friend now, I think I have to take that as an insult."

"Don't talk about my boyfriend like that!"

"You mean the boyfriend who you're always cheating on? I think me insulting him is the least of his worries."

"I forget that you decided you were too great for me. And you look so happy when I'm coming on to you, it's like all that never happened. When you fuck me, it's like I have my best friend back. Then once you've jizzed in me, you suddenly revert to not giving a fuck about me!"

"I do give a fuck about you," I mumble. He snorts.

"I meant figuratively."

"So did I."

"Don't give me that crap, Stan. You never talk to me, not even when we're stood next to each other at school. You haven't given a shit about me since we went to see that damn movie."

"You think I like being like this?" I yell, making him recoil. I stand up and start pacing the room. "I fucking hate just hating everything, not being able to enjoy life. I miss being your best friend! I miss you!"

"Except for the part where you think I'm crap now, you mean?"

"I just...I grew up. I wanted you to grow up with me."

"Growing up doesn't mean hating everything, dumbass. I'd rather be dead then be grown-up like that."

"When we fuck," I whisper, standing as far away from Kyle as possible, my back to him, "It's like I never changed and we stayed close. Like I always wanted."

"How sweet," Kyle spits. I round on him.

"Fuck you! That's almost exactly what you just said!"

"Which is why I don't believe you!"

"We used to always think alike!" I protest.

"And then someone decided I wasn't good enough." He climbs out of bed and starts tugging his clothes on. "I guess the only exception to that is my ass, right?"

"I'm not doing this on purpose," I say, pleading, but he ignores me. "Really."

"Hey, remember how I told you how you throwing me aside wrecked my ability to trust? That includes trusting you."

"So why do you think I do it?" I ask, trying to appeal to his sense of reason.

He shrugs, then pulls his t-shirt back on. It muffles his words, but they still slice me like a knife."How the fuck should I know? Maybe you think it's funny that I'm so dumb when it comes to you. Maybe watching me suffer is how you get your kicks now."

"I would never do that to you."

"Regardless, you're only interested in me when you're drunk and horny. I just need to get over you."

"I wasn't horny," I mutter.

"What?" he asks, shimmying as he pulls his trousers on.

"I wasn't horny until you started hitting on me. I'm never horny until you come along."

"Cute."

"I mean it."

"I really don't care any more. I just wish you'd get the hell out of my life so I can stop hurting others." He finishes dressing and stands with a sigh. "And so I can stop hurting," he whispers. I don't know if he wanted me to hear that or not. He leaves the room without glancing back at me, his head bowed. I guess he's got to go beg Cartman for forgiveness again. I wonder why Cartman keeps taking him back. I wonder why I can't let him go.

But I guess I already know the answer to that. He's the only connection, however faint, to what my life was like before. Everyone else has moved on, but when we're laying naked together, it's like I'm the person I always wanted to be at this age. It's moments like that which make my life bearable, even if I hate to admit it to myself.

But Kyle doesn't deserve to be dragged down any longer. It's time I released him from my poisonous grasp.

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><p>"You're still here?" Cartman snaps, his umbrella creaking under the force of the downpour. "Thanks for answering your phone, by the way – oh, wait, you didn't!"<p>

"Sorry," Kyle mumbled, his black suit trousers muddied from crouching on the sodden ground. His red hair was straightened by the weight of the rain on each strand.

"It's fine," says Cartman, crouching beside Kyle and shielding him from the rain. "But he's gone now. You wanted him gone."

"No. I wanted my friend back. That's all I've wanted for the past nine years."

"I know."

"I loved him. I still love him."

"I know," Cartman whispers, scowling at the fresh grave.

"I...I'll always love him," Kyle confesses.

"I know."


End file.
